


Past Prime

by Wrabbit7



Category: G.I. Joe (Cartoon), M.A.S.K., Transformers: Prime
Genre: Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2018-09-18 17:03:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9394787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrabbit7/pseuds/Wrabbit7
Summary: Set eight years after the end of Transformers: Prime, Jack and Miko have joined Unit: E officially as soldiers in the U.S. Army. Without the decepticons around, things on Earth have been relatively peaceful, allowing Unit: E to rebuild its decimated ranks, but already, trouble is looming on the horizon.This story will be combining several characters from several properties like M.A.S.K., G.I. Joe, and others. Tags will update as appropriate, so as to not give away any surprises, same with the ratings.





	1. You're in the Army, Now

**PAST PRIME**

 

**Chapter 1: You're in the Army, Now**

 

Jackson Darby was a man of many regrets. He regretted dropping out of college after just managing to land a bachelor's in psychology, so he could fill a suddenly vacant spot in Unit: E right away. He regretted his fit of homesickness which forced him to suggest June, his mom, join the very same unit when she got tired of being passed over for promotion to head nurse at Jasper County Medical. Most of all, he regretted not saying more before Arcee left his life. Oh sure, they could still talk about once every two or three months, when the planets aligned (literally; they had to wait until none of the gas giants occluded their view of Cybertron), inadequate as that was now proving to be. But Jack's most current regret was sitting across from him in the Unit: E mess hall in Groom Lake. He was seriously considering stabbing his eardrums with the plastic spork provided with his lunch just so he wouldn't have to hear her continue.

 

“So I says to Mabel, I says-”

 

Jack's ears were saved from a fate worse than puncturing thanks to the timely intervention of Captain Marissa Faireborn, their company commander, who laid a hand on Miko's shoulder, halting the story with which she was currently tap dancing on Jack's final nerve. “Aren't you going to be late for your appointment in the lab, Miko? Weren't they planning on testing those new HEAT rounds?”

 

Miko glanced down at her watch and dropped her spork with a clatter. “Slag, you're right! Sorry, Jack, I'll tell you later,” she exclaimed as she dashed off, leaving her tray of half-eaten food behind.

 

Marissa sat down in the newly vacated seat and smiled at Jack. “You looked to be in need of a rescue before you did something violent, possibly to her, so in the interest of unit morale, I thought I'd step in.” She picked up the uneaten dinner roll and picked it apart, nibbling on the pieces as she went.

 

“Thanks,” Jack said, noncommittally. _Out of the frying pan, and into the fire,_ he thought to himself. He had been dodging his superior officer's advances ever since joining the unit three years ago, mostly by hiding behind the regs and military code of conduct. Still, her relentless flirting and shameless innuendo (among far more blatant suggestions they find a more private part of the base so she could teach him some “military maneuvers”) was beginning to wear on him. Hoping to seem at least sociable, while not being _too_ friendly, he added, “I was starting to wonder if my spork would fit in my ear canal, and whether or not I could make it look accidental to her.”

 

“I'm sure you would have figured out a way; you're a smart boy,” Marissa replied with a grin. She loved it when he forgot to be standoffish with her.

 

Jack however, winced at being called a boy. She seemed intent on making him her boy toy in every sense of the phrase, emphasizing their age difference every chance she got, and dropping hints that she would love to have someone to “take care of”. In an effort to lead his commander away from any openings for suggestions they go somewhere private so she can “make a man of him”, Jack asked, “So, when can we expect this new guy to arrive?”

 

Gently sliding her foot forward until it encountered Jack's, Marissa replied, “Supposedly sometime early this evening, which means we can expect him anytime starting from now, to next week, knowing military efficiency.” She ran a hand through her decidedly non-regulation length red hair as she leaned back, letting her foot rise up along jack's leg, caressing it almost lewdly. “So what is on the agenda for Unit: E's resident Cybertronian Diplomat Warrant Officer?”

 

He knew that the question was more rhetorical than a genuine inquiry into his schedule; the only person on the base who knew his calendar as well as he did was Captain Faireborn, who made it her business to know where he was and what he was doing at all times. Biting back a grimace, he said, “The usual. Lessons in Cybertronian language and history with Ratchet until five, then the shooting range until seven.”

 

“Any plans for... _tonight_?” Marissa asked, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table and her chin on her hands.

 

Jack pulled his leg away from her roaming foot, ignoring her look of disappointment, and stood. “Depends. Ratchet might need my help again back at the autobot base, or I might go see my mom, so I'll likely be... occupied.” He picked up his empty tray and nodded towards her. “If you'll excuse me, Ma'am, I need to get to that lesson, now.”

 

Marissa watched him go with hungry eyes, and licked her lips as she noted the interplay of his butt cheeks beneath his BDUs. “Someday, Jackson Darby, you're going to run out of excuses, and when you do, I'll be there to swoop in.” She took a sip from the coffee cup in front of her, before remembering that it was Miko's and not her own. With a shrug, she downed the lukewarm drink.

 

(\ /)

( . .)

*(“)(“)

 

“Among the most famous of Solus Prime's creations were the Apex Armor, the Star Saber, and the one I consider the most fearsome, the Requiem Blaster. She-”

 

“Wait, _she_? One of the Original Thirteen Primes was female?”

 

Ratchet rolled his eyes and sighed at this latest interruption, but froze the screen's display on old concept sketches of the mighty Requiem Blaster. “Well, yes and no. As you know, Cybertronians don't reproduce sexually, so the division between male and female among us isn't a sexual dimorphism, so much as a psychological dimorphism. I have heard it said that among humans, there is a divide in how you think that aligns with gender. This is also true of Cybertronians, and we chose to call this difference, “male” and “female” after meeting aliens who _do_ reproduce sexually.

 

“So, what is this difference in thought?” Jack asked as he used a stylus to write all this down in a datapad which held all his notes.

 

The medic shifted his weight onto one foot and gestured with one hand as if to make a point, but no information came forth. He stared off into space blankly for a moment, before asking, “Well, what differences can you point to that makes up the difference between male and female humans?” he asked back.

 

Jack took a moment to think before saying, “Well, most of the differences I can think of offhand are really just cultural constructs; caregiver/provider, hunter/gatherer, protector/nurturer, things like that. As for how we _think_ differently, I never covered that in my college psych classes. I suppose that would have been something I would have learned about in my master's level classes, had I stayed...”

 

Ratchet took in the sight of the dejected human and kicked himself mentally for accidentally reminding him of his regrets. It was becoming a more common occurrence lately. _He acts more and more like Optimus with each passing cycle._ Looking to return to the subject at hand, he turned to the screen again and said, “Returning back to Solus, she-”

 

“Does this mean that all female Cybertronians are descended from her?”

 

Ratchet sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Just one lesson. Is it too much to ask to make it through one lesson without all these interruptions?” he asked no one in particular. He faced Jack again, who had perfected his innocent look. “Yes. All females use her pattern as a template, and can only come from one of her children; even Arcee.”

 

A bittersweet silence fell over the both of them as they remembered the autobots who had elected to return to Cybertron to oversee its reconstruction, though for Jack, most of his thoughts were of a certain femmebot. “Have... have you heard when we'll next be able to communicate with Cybertron?” the human asked.

 

Turning to the monitor, Ratchet pulled up a schematic of the Sol System, complete with a countdown to the next planetary alignment. “Well as you know, normally, we would have a clear line of sight in seventeen days, but an especially dense portion of the Oort Cloud will be transiting during that time, so we may have to wait for the next alignment, which will be in...” He advanced the schematic until the alignment passed and opened up again. “one hundred, seventy-two days... Spawn of a glitch...”

 

Neither one of them felt all that eager to continue the lesson after that. They were still for a long while, lost in their own thoughts, until Jack rose from the couch that had been brought into the autobot base years ago when he first encountered them as a teen. He silently walked towards the exit and was about to walk out, when he turned to say goodbye to Ratchet. The sight of the old robot standing statue still, obviously reliving old memories tugged at Jack's heart. “Hey, Ratchet?” It took almost a full minute before the medic turned his attention to the smaller human. “Why don't we go for a drive? Whenever I feel down, there's a place I go to, and it really helps to keep things in perspective.”

 

Ratchet looked around the base, which was running as smoothly as could be expected, considering it was kept up by one lone robot along with the occasional assistance of Raf, who came by as often as he could, and really only needed to service himself. The quiet hum of the machines was soothing most of the time, but in the silence that had suddenly befallen the two occupants, it only seemed to remind them of how lonely they were without their friends. With a nod, Ratchet replied, “Sure. I think the base will be fine for a bit, and I could use some... air.”

 

In a second, an ambulance stood where the robot once was, and opened the driver side door to allow Jack to climb in. They drove mostly in silence, with only the occasional direction by the human navigator, who led them to a patch of desert, that was different from the rest of the landscape, only for the two rocks that sat side-by-side, one larger than the other.

 

The ambulance pulled up to the rocks and let Jack out before transforming. The human mounted the smaller of the two rocks, facing west. Ratchet heavily sat on the larger rock, and the two of them watched as the sun approached the horizon. The sky went from a light blue to a yellow-orange, shading the bottoms of the clouds a purplish hue, and the first evening stars put in an appearance, twinkling in the haze.

 

“Arcee and I used to come here often, just to watch the sun set,” Jack said, breaking the silence. “Back then, I thought we would always be together; or at least, for _my_ lifetime. I... I took it for granted that we would. I never even gave it any thought what she would do if given the chance to return home.” He looked up at Ratchet, who had not made a move or sound, but continued to watch the sunset. “I don't begrudge her choice; I mean, who wouldn't jump at the chance to go back home after so long? But I never thought... I mean...” He was silent for a moment as he gathered his thoughts, and wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands. After a moment, he started again, trying to talk around a hitch in his throat. “I know she made the right decision; I _know_ it... up here,” he said as he tapped the side of his head, then held his hand over his heart. “But in _here_ , I can't help but feel betrayal for choosing something over me, even if it was her home, which makes me feel guilty for it.” He gave a sharp, but rueful bark of laughter. “I guess I _do_ begrudge her choice, huh? What kind of... friend does that?” He punctuated his question by slamming the heel of his fist into the rock.

 

He was startled to feel Ratchet's hand gently rest on his back, all but engulfing him. “The kind that misses his _partner_ ,” he said with more tenderness than he had ever heard from him.

 

It was well after dark before either of them moved from their spot.

 

(\ /)

( . .)

*(“)(“)

 

Jack was surprised when he walked up to Unit: E's ready room by the sound of a squealing Miko talking about a mile a minute. He had become accustomed to her enough by now that he recognized that particular squeal. It meant that she was gushing over some new guy, probably older than her, and more likely than not, ruggedly handsome. Yeah, she definitely had a type. He was doubly surprised then, when he actually walked into the room that the new focus of her attention was not only present, but old enough to be her own father. He noticed the specialist's insignia on his ACU jacket and the name tag denoting his family name as “Trakker”. He was indeed, ruggedly handsome as Jack had suspected, and knew that Miko would be hounding this one day and night.

 

Marissa smiled at the Jack, and walked over to stand between them. “Jack, how nice of you to join us instead of going to see your mother tonight. Allow me to introduce you to our unit's armored vehicle expert, Specialist Matt Trakker. Matt, this is Mr. Jackson Darby, our resident Cybertronian liaison and diplomat.” She laid a hand on Jack's shoulder, which he ignored, and gestured to the older man. “The good specialist here, wisely saw fit to bypass the military's gracious offer of free transport, and drove here himself from Fallon.”

 

Jack arched an eyebrow at him curiously. “How did you get on base in a civilian vehicle? I had to fight tooth and nail to get a pass for mine, and that was only allowed so I could go back and forth to the autobot base.”

 

Any answer he may have been about to give was interrupted by Miko, who grabbed Trakker by the arm, holding it close to her as if it were a stuffed animal. “That's the best part, Jack! It's not just a civilian vehicle! Sure, it may _look_ like one at first, but it's actually a rebuilt vehicon!”

 

“What?!” Jack exclaimed, clearly worried. “Are you crazy?”

 

Trakker actually laughed, but it wasn't the laughter of someone who liked to show off, or belittle those he deemed unworthy of his attention. “I assure you, son, I am as sane as any of us here. I had found a totaled car of incredibly advanced design, and started tinkering with it. It wasn't long before I discovered its database, and learned what it was. I also learned that it was essentially lobotomized by whatever had taken it out, destroying its higher functions. For all intents and purposes, its now a vegetable, no smarter than an ordinary car you might find on the open market today. A couple of months later, I discovered a jet fighter of the same type, and cannibalized parts from it so that the car can now perform a limited transformation into a jet. The robot forms of both 'bots are no longer accessible, so I've got a unique vehicle with some features far in advance of anything ever produced by humans, but again, it's just a dumb machine, now.”

 

Jack was dumbstruck, and staggered back a few steps. Knowing what he did about Cybertronian physiology, he was struck by the callous disregard, even if it was for an enemy who wouldn't have hesitated to kill him. “M- maybe we should have Ratchet check it out- you know, in case it's still dangerous or something?”

 

“But I already told you that it's not,” Trakker replied.

 

Fighting to keep the horror from his face and voice, Jack said, “But Ratchet knows everything you ever could about cybertronians. He could detect if its brain was self-repairing, meaning its mind would eventually return. You wouldn't want that, would you?”

 

Trakker waved him off casually. “Trust me, kid. The only danger my car poses is to the enemy, and that's only when I'm behind the wheel.”

 

Jack turned to his last resort. “Captain, I'm afraid I have to pull rank on this as my specialty. I insist we get Ratchet to look over the Specialist's... _car_ and ensure that it poses no danger to us.”

 

“Listen, kid. I'm not about to let some half-baked wrench monkey mess with my perfectly tuned machine,” Trakker said, bristling at the younger man. “I know what I'm doing, and I _don't_ appreciate a snot-nosed knowitall, warrant officer or no, stepping on my toes!”

 

“At ease, both of you!” Marissa almost yelled. Jack paled at the tone, having only heard it from her once before when a corporal almost killed them all by dropping a live bomb that was on its way to a fighter plane on the tarmac. “Jack, we are all in this unit because of our abilities or knowledge, and Specialist Trakker wouldn't be here if he didn't know what he was doing.” Trakker was smiling until she added, “Matt, if Mr. Darby says that your vehicle could pose a danger to us, then it is my duty to listen to him as our expert on cybertronians. Your vehicle is to remain in the hangar until Ratchet can examine it thoroughly. If he deems it a danger, then it will be dealt with, taking his opinion into account. If he calls it harmless, then the matter will be considered closed, and _never brought up again_ , is that clear?”

 

“Ma'am, yes Ma'am!” they both shouted.

 

Immediately, she softened, even smiling at both of them and Miko, who had seemed to melt into the background, trying not to draw attention to herself. “Glad we understand one another. Private Miko, why don't you give the specialist a tour of the facilities? Jack, let's go to my office. You can call Ratchet from there and see if he's available on such short notice.”

 

As they walked out, Miko heard Trakker mutter to himself, “Upstart brat. Thinks he knows my car better than _I_ do?”

 

“I don't know what sort of experience you've had with the decepticons, but me and Jack fought them for a couple of years, so I think we have a better understanding of them than any other human on Earth,” Miko said as she lead Trakker to the mess hall, her hands clasped behind her back. “I didn't think much of your car at first, because that's just how I am. I don't just jump in with both feet, I cannonball in. Jack's always been the thinker between the three of us; the cautious one. I can't even count the number of times he's pulled my fat from the fire after me or Raf did something stupid, or slipped up at the worst possible moment. What I'm trying to say is that when Jack says to be cautious, it's been my experience that he's usually right in some way.” She turned around and started walking backwards, watching the older man as she talked. “Try not to think too badly of him. Life has trained him to be the voice of reason, and when he goes against that, things usually go to slag pretty fast. He's only doing this because he wants to be sure that no one he cares about gets hurt.”

 

This seemed to mollify Trakker somewhat, but he didn't look ready to completely let go his wounded pride. Still, he let Miko grab his hand and drag him to the mess hall, which was open 24/7 in order to accommodate the people at Groom Lake who did not hold conventional hours.

 

(\ /)

( . .)

*(“)(“)

 

Marissa held her office door open for Jack before following him in and locking the door, which turned on the anti-bugging screens to secure any conversations held there. She walked over to her desk and sat in her chair, looking at Jack, a serious expression adorning her face. “The door's locked, so you know what that means, Jack. Anything said in here will be held under the strictest confidence, and not even a direct order from the Commander-in-Chief himself can countermand that.” She seemed to consider her words for a moment before asking, “How serious were you back there? Is it your honest, and considered opinion that the Specialist's vehicle poses a clear and present danger?”

 

Jack was about to protest her question, but thought better of it after seeing her look. He heaved a small sigh and nodded. “Not so much the present danger, depending on when he found it, but I've seen cybertronians recover from a lot worse than a simple lobotomy. Megatron was for all intents and purposes dead after the space bridge blew up. Knock Out told us that he was on life support with erratic brain activity, until he hitched a ride in Bumblebee's mind, and well, I'm sure you read the report.”

 

With a nod and a relieved sigh, Marissa leaned back in her chair. “To be honest, I'd forgotten about that; it had been so long since I read that particular report from Agent Fowler when he was kicked upstairs. See, this is why we keep you around, Jack.” She pushed a button under her desk, and a hidden screen came to life on her wall. A purring ring tone sounded for a few seconds before it was replaced by Ratchet's face.

 

“Captain Faireborn. I was just about to power down for the night. Is there something I can help you with?” the medicbot asked.

 

“There is, actually, and it may be time sensitive,” she replied with a grim smile. “Would it be possible for you to make your way over here with your full kit?”

 

Ratchet's optics widened at the implications of the request. “You've found another cybertronian?”

 

Marissa actually managed to look chagrined. “In a manner of speaking. It's just come to my attention that one of the men in my unit is in possession of a vehicon.”

 

“ _What_?”

 

Marissa winced at the expected shout. “It's a bit of a long story, and I can fill you in when you get here-”

 

“I'm bridging over.” Ratchet said. “ _Don't. Touch it!_ Is that clear?” 

 

Holding her hands up in surrender, Marissa replied, “It's under lock down in hangar thirteen. You already have the coordinates for that one, right?”

 

Rather than answer, Ratchet said, “I'll be there momentarily. Ratchet, out.”

 

Looking over at Jack, she said, “Well, that went better than I expected.”

 

(\ /)

( . .)

*(“)(“)

 

Matt Trakker ran into the hangar, only slightly winded, with a panting Miko close behind. He spotted Jack and Marissa standing near his vehicle he had dubbed, “Thunderhawk”. Jack was looking it over with something akin to disgust on his face, while Marissa gave an appreciative nod. “I'm not saying you're wrong, Jack, but you have to admit that as far as aesthetics go, this is a fine vehicle,” she said.

 

“Pardon my saying so Captain, but that's like saying-” Jack's reply halted upon him spotting Trakker standing not too far away from them.

 

Matt walked over to them, still visibly fuming. “Oh, no, Sir. Please. Do go on with what you were saying.”

 

Jack gave him an unreadable look, then shrugged. “I was just telling the captain here, that what you've done is no better than force a mentally retarded person into becoming your chauffeur. Frankly, I just hope you're the only person who gets hurt when it comes around to bite you in the exhaust port.”

 

Matt's face flushed red down to his neck. “That car is-”

 

“A sentient, living being,” Jack finished for him. “I had thought that slavery was made illegal in eighteen sixty-three, but I guess exceptions can still be made.” He turned his back to the man, and stared again at the converted vehicon. “The decepticons and I may not have liked each other, and they may not have respected non-cybertronian lifeforms and tried to kill us all, but there's one thing that Optimus taught me, that has always stayed with me. Freedom is the right of _all_ sentient beings.”

 

“Who-” Matt got no further than that, as a brilliant, green tunnel of light appeared near the closed doors of the hangar, allowing an ambulance towing a small trailer to drive into the building, before closing again. The new arrival drove up to the vehicon, while Jack walked up to meet it. Matt looked over at Marissa and asked, “This robot expert of yours drives an ambulance?”

 

“Not quite,” she replied.

 

Matt was shocked when the ambulance reconfigured itself into an eighteen-foot tall robot, who knelt down and extended a finger for Jack to shake. Ratchet's eyes immediately went to the vehicon, and he frowned. “I take it, this is the patient the Captain mentioned to me?” he asked, gesturing towards it.

 

Jack nodded, then gestured over to the trailer which had unhitched itself when Ratchet transformed. “Want some help with this?”

 

“Thank you. Would you pull out the neural net scanner first? Get some preliminary readings before we get elbow deep in energon,” the medibot said.

 

With a nod, the makeshift assistant disappeared into the trailer. Marissa slapped a hand on Matt's shoulder with a sigh. “Well, let's get out of their way, huh? I know from personal experience, that when those two get into a project, things can get a bit... hectic.”

 

“I'm not leaving my car. I have to make sure they don't do anything irreparable to it,” Matt said, almost shrugging away her hand.

 

Marissa shrugged and threw up her hands in surrender. “Fine by me, but I am ordering you to stay out of their way. You are to remain no less than fifty feet from their workspace unless they specifically invite you over; is that clear?”

 

Matt nodded silently, and a slightly worried Marissa headed off to take care of the paperwork she had been meaning to do when all the kerfuffle with Matt and Jack occurred. Matt for his part, borrowed one of the rolling chairs and sat on it backwards, watching the two open the hood by simply touching it in the right spot in a way that surprised the man who thought he knew everything there was to know about the vehicle.

 

(\ /)

( . .)

*(“)(“)

 

A knock on the door, pulled Marissa from her thoughts, which for once, were not about a certain young man under her chain of command, but the tiny problem of filling out her criminally understaffed Table of Organization. Six regulars, and one “consultant” does not a company make. “Enter,” she said. She unconsciously licked her lips as Jack walked in, covered in grease and dirt.  _Oh, how I would dearly like to “clean him up”, preferably, in my shower._

 

He plopped down in the chair before her desk, clearly exhausted; which tends to happen when one is up for over thirty hours straight. “Well, we have good news for Specialist Trakker,” he said with undisguised revulsion.

 

“Why do I get the feeling that I'm not going to like this report?” she asked.

 

With a casual wave of dismissal, Jack replied, “Oh, don't worry. It won't negatively impact you, or Unit: E. In fact, it will likely be a net benefit in the long run. Trakker's car is in all senses of the word, dead.”

 

“I see.”

 

“So, as long as you don't mind having what amounts to a non-decomposing meat puppet comprised of the carcasses of two different beings stitched together being driven around like a gruesome chariot of bones, then you'll be just dandy,” Jack said with a definite huff in his voice. “Blasted thing doesn't even run on energon, anymore, but some sort of argon plasma fuel cell. It looks like the brain _was_ shot, most likely by Optimus, judging by the carbon scoring left on it, but it was _alive_ after that, just lost all motor function, no pun intended. Ratchet thinks that actual brain death occurred sometime afterward, when someone who didn't know what they were doing blundered around in it, accidentally frying what was left.”

 

Marissa winced at the news. “Ouch.”

 

Jack nodded grimly. “Yeah. It doesn't look intentional, because several critical systems were fried that would make using it as it is now much easier, necessitating him making all new cludged together systems to make up for it. I'd call his engineering skills masterful, were it not for the fact that he's riding around in the conjoined dead bodies of formerly sentient and more importantly,  _sapient_ beings. As far as Ratchet and I are concerned, it's going to take a long, long time before we'll consider him a friend, if ever, but we'll work with him. Just don't, you know, expect us to send him any valentines, or anything.”

 

“How's Ratchet taking it?” Marissa asked.

 

Jack gave a snort. “About as well as can be expected for having seen the work of the cybertronian version of Doctor Frankenstein. He's putting his tools away while I came to make my report.”

 

“And the... vehicle?”

 

With a heavy sigh, Jack said, “Better than how we found it. Ratchet replaced a few things that could not be found in your standard corner parts store, new T-cog calibrated to two vehicle forms, rather than one vehicle and one robot, some new sensor suites, and such.” He held up a finger and added, “Which reminds me, you should let him scan a car and jet for new vehicle modes, if you want him to remain inconspicuous, and have him get with the tech boys over in lab seven, so they can familiarize him with the new sensors. Here's a list of the new stuff we put in.” He leaned over and slid a thumb drive across the desk to her. He rose from the chair and stretched, making her smile at his unconscious ease with her. “We also activated the weapons, so he'll need to practice with them as well. If that will be all, I think I'll go say bye to Ratchet and hit the-”

 

He was stopped when his phone started singing  _Lowrider_ . Jack's eyes went wide, and he dashed out of the room, all semblance of exhaustion gone as he left an amused Marissa shaking her head.

 

(\ /)

( . .)

*(“)(“)

 

Jack banged into the hangar, just as Ratchet and Miko were throwing in the last of his tools into his trailer with uncharacteristic disregard for them. The autobot looked his way, and said, “Good, I don't have to hunt you down. I was just about to open the ground bridge, so let's roll out!” Actions suited words faster than one could blink as he transformed and roughly backed into the trailer to hook it up, while the two humans climbed aboard the still moving ambulance. 

 

As they drove through the remotely opened ground bridge, Miko pulled out her phone and sent a quick text message. Barely a second later, it beeped with a reply. “Raf's waiting for a GB, Ratchet!”

 

The two humans hopped out of the still moving ambulance even as it transformed, allowing Ratchet to run over to the ground bridge controls and reset them to allow Raf to make his entrance. Miko and Jack ran over to the communication console, which had a spinning autobot logo which was replaced by Arcee. “Jack!” she cried out in pleasant surprise. They both ignored Miko's “Aw, man!” in the background. All three of the humans had agreed without telling anyone else, that whoever had sent the message first, their partner would get dibs on the first few minutes, as well as some privacy.

 

“Hey, pretty lady,” he replied, and eager smile plastered on his face. “How'd you manage to swing an early communication?”

 

Arcee smiled almost as wide at him. “Hey there, Partner. That scientist autobot we woke up from stasis a few Earth months ago said that there would be some serious interference coming up that would make a call like this all but impossible, so Optimus said we could make our check-in call early.” She put a hand up to the screen and said, “I've really missed you, Jack.”

 

Jack mimicked her move, placing his hand over hers, which even through the monitor, dwarfed his own. “Not as much as I missed you, 'Cee. I really wish I could have gone with you.”

 

The robot gave a lilting chuckle. “You'd have been bored to tears within a few days. It seems like all we do lately is rebuild Cybertron, and sift through the records. I can already feel my warrior skills rusting away.”

 

“But, we'd be together,” he replied. They stared at each other in silence, as if trying to pick out any obvious changes since they had last spoken for a moment, until Arcee looked a little downcast. “Hey, what's wrong, Partner?”

 

Arcee's smile returned, but still contained a bittersweet note to it. “Just wishing fate hadn't seen the need to put us so far apart after bringing us together.” She bit her bottom lip, then added, “ Alright, I lied. There's more. Bad news, I'm afraid.”

 

“Uh, oh,” Jack said. He sighed, then added, “Alright. Hit me.”

 

Arcee looked worried now, which in turn, worried Jack. He didn't even notice that Miko, Raf, and Ratchet had all gathered around behind him when they had heard the shift in tone. “It's Airachnid, Jack. She's missing.”

 


	2. A Little Good News, and a Lot Bad

**PAST PRIME**

 

**Chapter 2: A Little Good News, and a Lot Bad**

 

Jack held up his hands in a “T” formation and looked away from the screen. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Whoa. Back the bus up. We already knew Airachnid was missing. Does this mean you found her?”

 

Arcee nervously looked away. “Yes, and no. You remember that scientist autobot I mentioned? Well, he's been itching to get back to Moon Base Two so he could recover some important research. Optimus only allowed the use of resources when he finally explained to him how it could help with the rebuilding of Cybertron. He and Smokescreen went up, and were gone long enough for us to start worrying. Optimus was about to send me and Bulk to go see why they weren't responding, when Knock Out happened to over hear us talking.” She paused long enough to glare at someone off screen, who must have quickly made themselves scarce, judging by the sound of retreating feet. “Apparently, before the final confrontation with Megatron, the Decepticons had been having a bit of trouble with an experiment using dark energon, and had to bridge Airachnid and the entire Insecticon hive away. I think you can guess where they sent them.”

 

Jack sat back in the chair and rubbed his temples in an effort to alleviate the oncoming headache. “Just great. Now we have a missing psychopath with an army at her command, and no idea where on the moon they could be.”

 

“That's not entirely true, nor is it the worst of it, partner,” Arcee said grimly.

 

“This day just gets better and better,” Jack replied, throwing his hand up in the air. He waved a hand at her in a “come on” gesture. “Alright. Let's hear it.”

 

Arcee's features took on a worried cast. “It seems that escaped experiment turned an infected cybertronian into a slavering beast whose only priority was to suck the energon from others, infecting those they bite along the way, turning them into more of their kind.”

 

“Is this another case of zombie cybertronians?” Raff asked over Jack's shoulder.

 

Miko put a finger to her chin in thought. “I dunno. Sounds more like vampires, to me.”

 

“Either way, Airachnid and the Insecticons were infected. Nearly caught Perceptor and Smokescreen. Our bots only got away by sealing themselves in a bunker until rescue finally came for them. That was two days ago, by Earth reckoning,” Arcee finished.

 

“So how _did_ you rescue them?” Raff asked.

 

Arcee sighed. “By the time we got there, the moon base was empty. The only lifeforms there were Perceptor and Smokescreen... and no star ship.”

 

“By the Allspark...” Ratchet whispered.

 

“Yeah,” Arcee said. “So, now we have a ravenous, cannibalistic Insecticon army out there, somewhere, being led by a dangerous psychotic with a personal grudge against me _and_ Jack. We think it's only because we had finally gotten Metroplex up and running that they didn't come here to attack us.”

 

Jack sighed in counterpoint to Arcee's. “So, since they're going to be looking for energon and revenge, and they can't get either there...”

 

“They'll come here,” Ratchet finished.

 

Miko started punching imaginary foes. “So? We'll just squash them like the bugs they are. Earth isn't as defenseless as when you guys left it, you know. There's this cannon up in-”

 

“Miko!” Jack's cry cut through her diatribe before it could gather any steam. “Top secret exists for a reason. You can't just go blabbing secrets to our friends, even if you think it's a secured line. This is why your security clearance hasn't gotten any higher.”

 

The Asian girl blew him a raspberry and waved him off. “Please. The only ones who can even get on this frequency is the Pentagon and someone with an Autobot transceiver.”

 

“You mean like the ship Airachnid stole?” Jack asked her archly.

 

Miko had the grace to appear chagrined at the admonishment. “My bad,” she said, sticking her tongue out the corner of her mouth and bopping herself on the head.

 

Jack sighed and shook his head. “Security breeches aside, what's Optimus' plan?”

 

“That's where we get to the first bit of good news in all this,” Arcee said with a grin. “Optimus wants to send a strike team to Earth to hopefully intercept her and her forces. The only problem is, we have to wait until we can gather enough energon to power a space bridge-”

 

“We could still utilize my plan-”

 

Arcee glared at someone off screen as if they had just walked in on her changing her oil. “Optimus shot your idea down, Perceptor; that should be the end of the discussion.” She continued to glare for a moment longer, then returned to the screen, where her expression softened upon seeing Jack's smile. “As I was saying, this strike team will consist of three autobots, already familiar with Earth and its indigenous- Jack, stop smiling like that.” She couldn't hold it in anymore and laughed at his obvious excitement.

 

“Bulk's coming back? Awesome!” Miko jumped as she punched the air. Even Raff was grinning ear-to-ear in a mirror of Jack's.

 

Ratchet leaned forward, his usual gruff demeanor falling away at the thought of seeing his old comrades in person again. “How soon can we expect you?”

 

Looking to the side, Arcee replied, “As Jack so rightly pointed out, unfriendly aural sensors may be listening, so for security's sake, I can't give you a definite date, but let's just say that barring unforeseen circumstances, we should be there before his next birthday.”

 

Jack's grin became so wide, it hurt. “Best birthday present, ever.”

 

(\ /)

( . .)

*(“)(“)

 

Sitting in the darkened bridge, Airachnid leaned back in the command chair. A devious smile played across her lips as she considered the content of the transmission she had intercepted. Her head rested in one hand, while the other tapped out a staccato rhythm on the armrest with a razor sharp talon. She shifted around, crossing one leg over the other, and her smile became a grin as she considered the message she had just witnessed being relayed between Earth and Cybertron. “I'll have to remember to send Optimus a thank you note for putting all my goals within reach. Perhaps his medic's head will do? It'll have to suffice, since Jack and Acree's will be decorating _my_ wall.” Her bone-chilling laugh echoed through the empty bridge of the spacecraft.

 

(\ /)

( . .)

*(“)(“)

 

Working around Ratchet, Jack swept up the last of the dust and dirt from the floor, while the Autobot worked on connecting a newly constructed recharge bed to the base's power grid.

 

Said Autobot stepped back from his work to look at the tiny human who only came up to just past his knee. “Jack, you really should get some rest. You've been at this for two weeks now. They're not going to be here for at least another month at the bare minimum.”

 

Jack stopped sweeping long enough to lean on the push broom and look sleepily at the medic. “What if they get lucky and find a secret cache of energon, Ratchet? They could be opening the bridge as we speak, and we won't have their living space ready for them.”

 

Ratchet's eyes rolled as he heard the same argument that he had used for the past two weeks. “Then it wouldn't be the first time the three of them spent their recharge cycle on the ground. If you're not going to get some rest for yourself, then do it for me. Do you know what Arcee is going to do to me if she found you looking like this?”

 

The human's reply was delayed by a jaw cracking yawn that threatened to split his had in half. When he could finally speak, his eyes were half closed. “Yeah, yeah, point taken. I'll go kip out on the couch. A few hours, and I'll be right as rain.”

 

With a frown, Ratchet shook his head. “I hate to do this, Jack, but I'm pulling rank on you. As a team doctor, I'm ordering you to go back to base- _your_ base, and get a full eight hours of uninterrupted rest. I don't want to see you here again for the next twelve hours, or I'll put you under medical arrest.”

 

Jack groaned and rolled his tired eyes. “Oh, come on, Ratchet-”

 

“No, _you_ come on,” Ratchet replied. He arched an eyebrow at him and glared. “Don't make me call Nurse Darby, because I will.”

 

Throwing his hands up in defeat, Jack let the broom handle fall to the floor with a clatter. “Great! Now you're threatening to tell on me to my mommy! Why you gotta be a narc, man?” He kicked the broom handle out of his way in disgust and stalked off to the groundbridge controls. “Fine, I'm going. But the second those twelve hours are up, you better believe I'll be right back here getting the place ready for them.”

 

Ratchet smiled at his retreating form. “I'm sure Arcee will appreciate the thought.” As soon as he heard the groundbridge open and close, he shook his head and returned to his work. “I suppose I should be thankful they haven't touched sparks; I'd never get him out of my hair.” He stopped his welding for a moment, and patted his head, finding the expected metal, helmet-like dome. With a chuckle, he returned to his welding.

 

(\ /)

( . .)

*(“)(“)

 

Stumbling through the halls, Jack was happier than ever that Unit: E was pretty much left alone with their own hanger, because he just wasn't sure he would be able to recognize a superior officer in his current state, let alone remember to salute. His luck however, didn't hold, as a voice cut through the miasma shrouding his brain.

 

“Jackson Elliot Darby, where have you been, mister?”

 

There was only one person in the world who used all three of his names, and despite his extreme fatigue, he straightened up and looked his mother in the eye. “Mom! I was just-”

 

“Coming to explain yourself to me? I should hope so. You missed three dinners with me without so much as a phone call, and-” June squinted at her swaying son, suddenly suspicious. “Are you drunk?”

 

Jack sighed and slumped his shoulders. “No, Mom, just tired. I've been up working for the last seventy-two hours, and-”

 

“Then get to bed,” June snarled as she pushed her son towards his room. “Get at least a good eight hours of sleep, and come see me right after.” She caught a whiff of the young man she was manhandling and pulled her head away. “On second thought, come see me after you shower. You reek like month-old sweat socks.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Jack replied by rote, “Yes, Mom.”

 

With one final shove, she pushed him into his neat and orderly room with a smile. “I'll see you tomorrow. Pleasant dreams, Sweetie.”

 

Jack's reply was muffled by a huge yawn, but he waved to his mom as he stumbled to his bed and collapsed on it. He was asleep before June even closed the door.

 

(\ /)

( . .)

*(“)(“)

 

Not even the blaring alarm signifying an intruder could rouse Jack more than to turn over in his sleep so that the pillow muffled the sound somewhat. The door opened just long enough to admit a lithe figure dressed in the standard navy blue combat BDUs which comprised the vast majority of Area 51's personnel. The figure leaned against the door, letting her eyes adjust to the dark of the room, and caught her breath when she spotted the sleeping figure on the bed. When only the sound of a soft snore came from him, she padded further into the room with more stealth than a church mouse on shag carpeting. She stopped under the pitifully small exhaust vent blowing cold air into the room, then looked down at her body. _Even if I could fit my chest in there, there's no way my hips would._

 

Shaking her head, she walked over to the nightstand next to the bed and carefully picked up Jack's badge, pocketing it. The intruder walked back to the door and was about to press her ear to it, when it opened quickly, smacking her in the head and causing her to hiss in pain.

 

“Hey, Jack, are you- Hey! What the-”

 

Miko got no further as the intruder sprung back to her feet, swinging a jab at her face. Miko blocked it, as well as the follow up kick to her abdomen, but grunted as the service pistol she pulled from her holster was knocked out of her hand. “Oh, you're in for it now, lady! That's like my third favorite pistol!” Not bothering to spare even a glance away from her opponent, she shouted, “Yo, Jack! You gonna give me a hand with this spy or just stand there gaping at her tits?”

 

The woman  _did_ spare a glance at the still sleeping Jack, allowing Miko the chance to turn the tables by throwing a right cross. While it was blocked, the intruder grimaced her pretty face at the snapping sound issuing from the blocking arm.

 

“Hah! That's what you get for taking on a heavy weapons specialist, bi-”

 

Miko's gloating was interrupted, as the woman kicked her in the knee, followed by a whip-like kick to the now unprotected abdomen. While her opponent was still reeling from the combo, she slipped behind her, and grabbed her wrist with her good hand, twisting it behind her.

 

Miko cried out in pain as her joints were stretched beyond their limits. She tried to elbow the taller woman, but she was moving to keep out of her limited reach. “Jack, get off your lazy butt and  _do_ something!”

 

Both women froze as a gunshot rang out. They looked at Jack, who was now sitting up and aiming a gun at them, even though his eyes were closed, and he wore the same serene expression he did asleep. The taller woman took the presented opportunity and threw Miko at Jack before bolting from the room, cradling her injured arm.

 

As Miko lay sprawling over his lap, Jack calmly laid down, his hand putting his gun on the nightstand, with the practiced precision of a machine. Miko pushed herself up, looking at Jack, shock on her face. She shook her head and decided to put this off for the moment, and ran towards the door. She paused at the bullet hole in the wall, just inches from where the other woman's head had been, judging from the angle of Jack's bed. “Control, intruder spotted in Unit:E barracks. Be aware that she may have a broken left arm, but she can still kick like a mule,” she said into her radio as she continued pursuit.

 

(\ /)

( . .)

*(“)(“)

 

With an ear-popping yawn, Jack stretched. He smacked his lips a few times as he stared at the ceiling of the darkened room before deciding that he had gotten about as much useful sleep as possible, and swiveled out of bed. With a stretch, he ambled over to his personal bathroom to perform his morning ablutions. Feeling human once more, he dressed and walked over to the cafeteria, hoping to find his mother there so he wouldn't have to hunt her down in order to keep his promise.

 

In a pleasant surprise, he found not only his mother, but his commanding officer and Miko there as well, all bent over in what appeared to be a very intent conversation. He could feel their eyes on him as he got his breakfast, though it was well past noon. He sat down next to Miko and opposite the other two, and dug into his meal with gusto. Unable to stand the silence from them any longer, he swallowed a bite of scrambled egg, and said, “Morning. Did I miss something?”

 

June and Marissa looked at him with obvious concern, while Miko goggled at him. “You mean you don't remember almost shooting me this morning?” the Asian girl asked.

 

Jack stopped shoveling food in his mouth and slowly turned to her. “Miko, what the he- eck are you talking about?” Jack had to stop himself from almost cursing in front of his mother.

 

Rather than let Miko air their company's dirty laundry where anyone could hear, Marissa said, “Maybe we should discuss this in my office.” She rose, indicating that this was one of those “unofficial orders” and led them out. Jack stopped only long enough to bus his tray, and walked out still munching on the improvised bacon and egg sandwich he had assembled from breakfast.

 

(\ /)

( . .)

*(“)(“)

 

“So that's what happened,” Marissa said as she leaned back in her plush office chair. “You really don't remember anything?”

 

Jack was slumped in his chair, the last two bites of his sandwich forgotten on his knee. He looked over to a fuming Miko and shook his head. “I am  _so_ sorry, Miko. I honestly don't remember anything before running into Mom just before going to bed. You weren't hit, were you?”

 

Somewhat mollified by the sincere apology and concern, Miko  _harrumphed_ and looked to June. “Not by  _you_ , no. That f- fragging glitch almost broke my knee, but luckily, you seem to have better aim asleep than you do awake. Missed me by almost a foot, but came awful close to  _her_ head.” She finally turned to face him and grinned. “Since when did you start sleeping in the buff? If we weren't in the middle of a declared emergency and you didn't stink to Cybertron, I might have taken advantage of the opportunity presented.” 

 

June blushed and coughed, while Marissa said, “ _Thank you_ , Private. That'll do.” She ignored the grin Miko shot her and turned to June. “Lieutenant, I'd like you to give Mr. Darby a thorough exam, please. We need to find if this is going to be a one-time occurrence or something we'll have to be on the lookout for in future.”

 

“Of course, Captain,” June said with a nod.

 

“Do we know who she was, or who she was working for?” Jack asked.

 

Marissa nodded. “We do, actually. Her given name is  Anastasia Cisarovna, but these days, she goes by the moniker, 'the Baroness'. She works for a terrorist mercenary group called Cobra. Miko. you're actually very lucky to have come out of that meeting so lightly. She's a deadly infiltration expert with an impressive trail of bodies in her wake.”

 

Flexing an arm, Miko patted the hard muscle there. “Please. More like she's lucky  _she_ got off so lightly. If I had been carrying The Devastator, she would have been in deep.”

 

“Didn't Ratchet tell you to change that name?” Jack asked, receiving a raspberry in return. Turning back to his commander, he asked, “Did she get what she was after? I doubt she infiltrated one of the most heavily secured bases on Earth just for an early morning constitutional.”

 

“Unknown at this time,” Marissa replied with a shrug. “We're still going through the data she accessed, but most of it wasn't even classified as confidential. Mostly just material from the thirties to the fifties.”

 

Jack rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm... That  _is_ quite a ways back. Optimus and his crew hadn't even arrived on Earth at that point.” He sat in silent thought for a moment before asking, “Any way we could get a copy of that data to Ratchet? She may not have been after, or even knew about aliens or their tech, but it may be incidentally related, considering how Earth and Cybertron are linked. He knows way more about his race's history than I do, considering he  _lived_ through much of it.”

 

Marissa nodded. “I'll run it by General Flagg, see if he agrees to it. I don't foresee any problems, given the age of those files, but don't be too surprised if he refuses. The good General is still pretty miffed about Ratchet's reluctance to turn over the more advanced Cybertronian weaponry, despite the President's order to drop the matter. By the way, you're going to need this.” She slid an ID badge across the desk.

 

Jack's surprise was tempered by the realization that he may be in deep trouble. “I was just going to report that I was missing it after breakfast. Where did you find it?”

 

The Captain gave him a sharp look. “I didn't. That one is brand new. The Baroness stole your old one, and I presume still has it. We tagged it in the system so we'll know when and where she tries to use it, and can hopefully swoop down and capture her.” She leaned back in the chair and made shooing gestures at her assembled squad. “You three had best be about your business. I'm going to see a general about requisitioning a little interspecies cooperation.”

 

(\ /)

( . .)

*(“)(“)

 

Jack fidgeted nervously on the examination table, his bare feet beating out an idle rhythm against it. He was currently watching his mother's back as she examined some X-rays pinned to the light box hanging on the wall. “So, what's the prognosis, Doc? Am I going to live?”

 

“Diagnosis, Jack. A prognosis determines the likely outcome of an illness; a diagnosis determines if there even _is_ a problem.” She turned to look at him briefly, her face full of concern as she went over to the phone and punched in a few numbers. “Doctor Greer? Could you come over to the Unit: E infirmary, please? I need a second experienced set of eyes here. Thank you, Sir.” June turned back to look hard at the X-rays as she stood next to her son and held his hand which was still gripping the edge of the table.

 

“Mom, you're starting to worry me. What's wrong?”

 

June squeezed his hand, but still did not look him in the eye. “I'm not sure, that's why I called for a second opinion, Jack. It may be nothing- it may just be an artifact on the film, but I want to be sure.”

 

They sat in nerve-wracking silence for a few minutes until there was a knock, and the door opened, admitting a bespectacled black man wearing a white coat, perhaps in his sixties. As he shook hands with her, he said, “Afternoon, Nurse Darby. What can I help you with?”

 

Motioning towards the X-rays, June replied, “I'm having some trouble with these. Take a look at the thyroid.”

 

Dr. Greer pushed up his glasses onto his forehead and leaned forward for a closer look. “Hmm... I see what you mean. Have you done a CT scan, yet?”

 

June shook her head. “No, the lab has been having trouble with the machine, and are currently running a complete diagnostic on it, so it won't be available for a few days, at least. I didn't want to use the MRI, because it looks metallic.”

 

“And could cause problems of another sort,” Dr. Greer finished for her with a nod.

 

“Either of you want to clue in the poor patient?” Jack asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

 

June turned to him and took his hand in hers, resting her other hand on a shoulder. “Sorry, Jack. This is really worrying me.”

 

Dr. Greer smiled at the two. “I take it you're familiar with the impatient patient?”

 

June smiled back, her hand on Jack's shoulder moved to his back, moving in circles to comfort him. “I'm proud to call this young man my son, Sir.” Her smile became a little strained as she asked, “Have you ever seen anything like this before?”

 

He ran his hand over his closely cropped hair and blew out a deep breath. “I'm sad to say no, I haven't. I'd say it was an implant, but I see no surgical scar. His digestive tract looks intact, so it wasn't likely acquired orally.” He looked Jack in the eye and asked, “Have you been exposed to any unusual circumstances which might explain this, Mr. Darby?”

 

Jack let out a short bark of laughter and sighed. “I'd answer that, but I'm not sure what your security clearance is, Sir.”

 

Dr. Greer laughed as well. “I think you'd be surprised, young man. Still, if you know a medical professional who has also dealt with these circumstances as well, I'd suggest consulting them. They may have some insight that a poor Harvard man wouldn't be privy to.”

 

Jack looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. “Thanks, Doc. I know just the guy.”

 

(\ /)

( . .)

*(“)(“)

 

Ratchet stared in confusion at the computer readouts, scratching his head. “I just don't understand. How did you get Cybertronian nanobots inside of you? I mean, you _do_ tend to be around us a lot, but that doesn't mean you'd just pick them up unless you went digging through our wreckage on a regular basis with open wounds.” He looked over at Jack, who was laying on the enormous scanning bed designed for a being many times his size. “You... _haven't_ been digging through our wreckage, have you?”

 

“No, Ratchet. That's disgusting,” Jack replied with an eyeroll.

 

June walked forward and asked, “So, does that mean you have no idea how he became- I mean, got this way?”

 

Turning away from the console, Ratchet looked over to June, who was almost chest level to him on the raised platform the humans used at the base in order to be at a more comfortable speaking height with the Autobots. “It's alright, Nurse Darby. In a way, it is an infection, but so far, it appears to be a rather benign one. And actually, I have several ideas. Some good, some bad. I'll know more once I extract a few worn out examples to study.”

 

“How long will that take?” Jack asked from the table.

 

The computer chimed, and Ratchet turned back to it. “Actually, it's already done. Let's see what we got here... Hmm... Oh, blast...” he said, sounding more annoyed than worried.

 

“What is it?” June asked, leaning forward on the railing.

 

The Autobot's shoulders slumped. “I'm afraid I'm partially to blame for this, Nurse Darby. Shortly before the others left for Cybertron, Arcee came to me, complaining that she had become aware of a noticeable drop off in performance. She asked me for a nanobot boost, so I gave her one. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but she had asked to just give her the injector so she could do it herself, so I handed it to her and she left. These nanobots bear the same construction marks as those that I use for our team.”

 

June's grip on the railing tightened, and she almost succeeded in keeping the anger from her voice. “So, you're telling me that Arcee injected Jack, despite not knowing the possible consequences?”

 

“Oh, I'm sure she's well aware of the consequences of using them on him,” Ratchet replied with a calming gesture. “These nanobots are quite benign on organics such as yourselves, and in fact, can provide a net benefit. They make it easy for your bodies to build and maintain muscle mass, increase reaction time, and can even extend lifespans by keeping you healthy by supplementing your natural immune system. Furthermore, they get energy by breaking down waste products. I was thinking of giving these very same nanobots to all three of the children and Agent Fowler, but Optimus said not to. The only real downside- if you can call it that- is that they influence their host by encouraging them to eat foods rich in materials they need to rebuild themselves. Have you noticed any changes in your dietary urges, Jack?”

 

Jack sat up and patted his well-muscled stomach, which grumbled at the mention of food. “Well, I _have_ been craving spinach a lot lately. Oh, and the other day, I actually _took_ the liver and onion dinner option offered in the cafeteria.”

 

“A clear sign of something wrong, coming from you, Jack,” June quipped. For the first time in days, she actually smiled in mirth. “I could never get you to finish a plate of liver, growing up, but here you are, getting strange injections from even stranger girls, and you're gobbling the stuff up like it's ice cream.”

 

“You're not going to get into a fight with her over this, are you, Mom?”

 

The woman sighed and folded her arms under her breasts. “Well, we _are_ going to have a discussion about obtaining permission before administering injections, but I'm not going to forbid her from coming near my boy again. She obviously knew what would happen, and did it to protect you, so we'll chalk it up to overeagerness and leave it at that.” She looked up at Ratchet again. “But that still doesn't explain how they were able to hijack Jack's body while he was asleep. Were they modified, and will that have unforeseen consequences?”

 

Ratchet rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he considered this. “Hmm... Hard to say, without poring through the coding, line by line. I'll set the base computer to run a comparison analysis, to pick out any anomalies. The stock nanites aren't anywhere near capable of doing something you described to me earlier, so she would have had to alter the coding. The really worrisome part of that is that Arcee's medical coding skills consist mainly of some basic field repair techniques. She would have needed the help of an expert in order to be able to override Jack's motor functions, even asleep. The nervous system of a creature as complex as a human would be far beyond her capabilities.”

 

“You don't suppose she went to Knock Out, do you?” Jack asked nervously. All three of them knew of the former Decepticon's less than sterling moral standing.

 

“Possible, but doubtful,” the medibot replied. “She trusts him about as far as _you_ could throw him. It's far more likely she took a copy of the programming from the base's medical computer bank.” He stood in silent thought for a moment longer before adding, “Still, there _is_ another benefit to this,” Ratchet said. “As long as you're fairly close, a Cybertronian with the right frequency can track down a person with these nanobots by looking for it on the transwarp band. I'm fairly certain that this was Arcee's main purpose in doing this in the first place. Now that we know about them, _we_ can do the same. We just have to make sure this information doesn't get into the wrong hands.” He looked surprised for a moment, as if struck by a sudden thought. “In fact, I'd like to examine all the humans who have had extended contact with Cybertronians. They may have been injected with these without their knowledge, as well.”

 

June nodded. “Good thinking. If Arcee did it, it's a safe bet that Bulkhead and Bumblebee may have as well. “I'll go round them up.” She pulled her keys from her pocket, and started walking towards the groundbridge controls.

 

“Actually,” Ratchet said, stopping her cold. “We should let Jack collect our friends, while I examine _you_ , Nurse Darby. You've had extensive contact with Arcee, and are the most important human in Jack's life, not to mention your less than pleasant encounter with Knock Out. There's a very good chance she injected you as well with these as a simple precaution.”

 

June's frown returned, but she took off her nurse's tunic, exposing the white t-shirt she wore beneath. “Good thinking. No sense leaving this stone unturned.” She accepted Ratchet's help and climbed onto his hands to bring her over to the scanning bed Jack quickly vacated. “Jack, make sure you get them both. If you can, get a hold of Agent Fowler, and see if he can get over here for a quick scan.”

 

Jack did his best not to look over to the scanning bed, where his mother was now lying in her underwear. He got the groundbridge going and without looking back, he waved. “Will do, Mom. Back in an hour or so.”

 

As the groundbridge closed, Ratchet and June shared a smile and a chuckle at her son's discomfort.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? It's not forgotten, just... delayed... a lot...


End file.
